


Diapause

by sloppy



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bruce Wayne is a Good Parent, Gen, Jason Todd is Alive
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-16
Updated: 2018-08-16
Packaged: 2019-06-28 10:11:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15705144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sloppy/pseuds/sloppy
Summary: Jason nicked his thumb turning a page in his book. A small bit of blood began to bead from the cut. Unflinchingly, he swiped it against the margin of the page, watching as the red dot swelled in size beneath his finger.





	Diapause

**Author's Note:**

> Written for dailyjasontodd's JTBW18, Day Seven: What Could’ve Been. Happy Birthday to a good boy!

Jason nicked his thumb turning a page in his book. A small bit of blood began to bead from the cut. Unflinchingly, he swiped it against the margin of the page, watching as the red dot swelled in size beneath his finger.

It wasn’t as though it was his favorite. This was a book Dick had sent him thoughtlessly two Christmases ago, with the same brand of thoughtlessness he used in fights with Bruce, or at the very least the same kind with which he’d considered Jason up until this year.

And anyway, of all things, this was a book about bugs. Jason liked epics, mythologies, mysteries, fantasies. He supposed they liked him back, as none of them had ever made Jason bleed before Encyclopedia of Entomology.

His blood hadn’t spared the Y in MAYFLY. It looked somewhat like he’d extended the last stroke of the letter, so that it was ongoing longer than it should. It distracted him every time he tried finishing the rest of the paragraph. He felt a flash of irritation at himself. Why did he ruin the page like that? Now he couldn’t concentrate on the words at all!

Irritation grew to frustration, and he threw the book aside, onto the floor. It landed with a slap. His vision watered for a fraction of a second.

There was a knock at his door. He could tell who it was by the creaking of the floorboards because Alfred was naturally light-footed and Batman wasn’t allowed upstairs.

“Come in,” Jason called to Bruce, rubbing his eyes.

“Jay.” Unlike Jason, Bruce wasn’t in his pajamas. He was in a white oxford and slacks, remnants of a late meeting with Lucius and the WE board. It was harder to tell if he’d don the mask as soon as Jason went to sleep. “Still up, kiddo?”

“I was reading,” he answered. Bruce leaned down to pick up the tossed encyclopedia and quirked a brow at him. “I said _was_ reading.”

Jason watched as Bruce leafed through the book. “ _Rhithrogena germanica_ belonging to the order Ephemeroptera,” the man recited from a passage with tempered amusement. Jason knew he’d seen the bloodstain, but was relieved it had been glossed over. Worrying over a paper cut would be next level for Bruce. “What’s this, now? What happened to those Anne Carson books we got the other day?”

“Finished the last of ‘em at breakfast.” He slipped further under his covers, getting comfy. “I liked the Oresteia ones best.”

“Really? I thought you’d like Antigone.” At Jason’s shrug, Bruce said, “Hmm. Well, I liked Antigone.” He placed Encyclopedia of Entomology on the edge of the corner table and sat on the bed, dipping with his weight. “We can return to the library tomorrow after lunch, unless you’d prefer to read more on the riveting lives of March Brown mayflies.”

“S’not that bad. Did you know that mayflies have longer incubation time than they do after they hatch? That means they never live out full adult lives.”

“A tad depressing, for a book about insects.”

“Don’t see how it’s any more depressing than the books I normally read,” Jason contested. He scratched an itch on his neck. “I actually think it’s kinda like life. I mean, not everyone survives after childhood.” He paused, pretending to think. “You know that bats eat mayflies?”

He could feel Bruce tense. Jason didn’t really know why he was trying to hurt Bruce out of nowhere. It was just that Jason was in a mood and Bruce was here, that was all. Not only that, but he had been a homebody for the past two weeks, leaving the manor only for restocking on books or food. Nothing was keeping him, only himself. It was only ever himself.

“Sorry,” Jason muttered. “I hate bugs.”

Jason felt like a flipping magnet, helplessly bound and repelled, not just with his thoughts but with his feelings as well, and it didn’t seem like he could make Bruce understand with mere speech. He did his very best to simplify his yearning.

“Bruce,” he asked, “will I ever be Robin again?”

Bruce was a warm weight his side of the mattress. His words were carefully considerate, as though Jason was made of something frailer than bone and flesh.

“Is that what you want, chum? To put on the suit?”

The suit, thought Jason blearily. No, not the suit. It was Robin that held the magic, the majesty of it all. How could it be so simple as tacking on the domino mask and being able to fly again? What he wanted was to be whole, to feel like the Robin that he’d merged into, once upon a time, invincible and untouchable. Now, he knew what it was like being unable to get up from bed without aid for months on end. He knew the hot shame of being spoon-fed, being changed, needing help to get to the toilet. The price of magic had made itself clear. Jason had the night terrors to prove it.

Soon after Jason got on his feet after months of desperate rehab, he snuck into the Cave to try on one of his old spares, though he didn’t make it past fitting his left glove. Bruce found him minutes later, curled on the ground and shaking. “Shh, sweetheart,” he murmured at the time, cradling him close. “Nothing can touch you.”

The worst part was that his fears were foundless. The Joker was currently in a brain dead comatose in a high security facility constructed just for him across state lines, away from Gotham and away from sight. He hadn’t been Robin in nine months, since that day in Ethiopia. By all accounts, Jason was safe. Batman had made sure. Bruce had.

Before he could answer, Bruce put a large warm hand over Jason’s fringe and kissed his forehead.

“Someday,” began Bruce, “you’ll know the answer. When that day comes, I’ll support whatever you choose. Until then, bud, how about you read some more books? Ace your classes. Watch a Knights game with me. Revel in this life, just a bit longer.”

“Support whatever I choose?” asked Jason dubiously. “So you _don’t_ wanna lock me up and ban me from potentially hurting myself as Robin beyond forever?”

Bruce’s laughter came out as a huff. “Jay-lad, there are times I wish you never even knew the manor was built over a cave. But I’m trying something new. A road less travelled, you could say. I almost lost you once thinking my word was stronger than your will.”

Jason rested his hand over Bruce’s forearm. He’d never imagined the man would be this open-minded about something he’d once been so hardened. It helped that he wasn’t currently the Bat, though maybe they were more similar than Jason gave them credit. Bruce, Batman—whoever it was in the end, he was sure of one thing as his eyelids began to weigh.

Jason stopped Bruce at the doorway. “Hey, Dad?”

“Yes, son?”

“Love you.”

“Sorry, what was that?”

Hearing the smile in Bruce’s voice, Jason grumbled, “Aw, go to sleep, old man!” as he shut his eyes and pulled his sheets over his head.

He thought of lifting it again when Bruce said nothing, that perhaps he had simply went away for the night like Jason had commanded, until he heard a sigh, long and resigned.

“I love you, too, Jason,” Bruce said softly. “More than you know.”

 


End file.
